Cold Weather Running - 1980's Style

I went skating yesterday. I meant to go running, but the thin sheet of ice on all the paved trails near my house forced me to tread carefully until I got to the dirt trails a mile away.

I need advice for ice running, so please send ideas. I do have some of those nifty thingys you slip on the soles of your shoes for snow, but they seem a bit spiky for bare pavement. I'm afraid I'll screw up my knees if I run 4 or 5 miles in them without the cushion of the snow.

Meanwhile, look what I found at the bottom of my snow gear box! It's my wool North Face headband from 1989. Stylish, and upside down to boot. Hey, it works.

I don't really want to run in the gym, so I will attempt to stay outside this winter as much as I can. Who's in?

The One About New York

I went to Manhattan. I loved it. I didn't want to leave. I want to go back.

For the record, I did go to Manhattan once, when I was 11. It was in 1976, when we went to Washington DC to visit my cousins for the bicentennial. We went to NYC for one day. It was a hot, sticky, miserably muggy gray day in August, I think, and the crazy people in the subways scared me.

So, from 1976-2009, I didn't really want to go back to Manhattan. It seemed nice in movies and books, if you're very rich and very thin, and obviously brave enough to live there. I figured I wasn't any of those things.

But then, these people named Loren and Michelle Feldman, who I met a year or two ago on Twitter, decided to put on a conference, and I decided I needed to go. I wrote about them last December in my post "What a Croc: @1938Media's Shoes and How I wish I Could be Jewish."

I wanted to attend The Audience Conference, something fierce, because I wanted to meet them, and the conference was all about this:

"Audience is a conference aimed at those who recognise the need to reach engage and influence audiences of all kinds, an investigation into how this is changing, and a look at how technology has in the past and is now, through new media tools and the social web, changing audience participation and interaction."

And this is the exact kind of thing I'm into, especially since my new company Twist Pop Media is all about telling stories for clients and pushing the stories out to the world. Plus I was a drama girl, you know. And I write for many different audiences. And I want to meet people and get some work, to boot.

So I figured I'd need to be brave, take a red eye flight to Newark, take a bus into the city, find my way through the crowded, dirty, mean and crazy streets of Manhattan to the hotel, and then try hard to be social and outgoing and professional with a bunch of strangers I'd never actually met in real life. All by myself. Without having an anxiety attack.

Turns out I am very brave. And Manhattan is clean and friendly and easy. And the hotel was lovely and I met Ezra Butler (who works with 1938 Media) in the lobby when I was checking in, and he walked me right down to 5th Avenue to look at new phones and get a real bagel.

And then I went to MOMA and The Folk Art Museum and The Museum of Arts and Design and Central Park and around and around and around all the streets (which are on a grid, by the way,easy peasy) and then I took the subway back.

I did get a little lost down there in that ridiculous underground maze, but attractive men in suits and friendly women with shopping bags kept pointing me in the right directions until I found Grand Central Station, and a wonderful guy in a bike cab who got me back to my street and said I didn't even have to pay him, but I gave him $10 bucks and let him kiss me on the cheek at the end.

And then I met Erin Bury in the lobby, who was also traveling alone, and made her come to the parties with me, because my theory is if you walk into a party with a beautiful blond woman who is also smart and plays the piano and sings like an angel, strangers become instant friends, and they are always happy to see you.

The party was fun and I met a bunch of nice people. They didn't think I was shy at all. I completely fooled them, I think. Because I'm such a good actress.

And then, the next day I went to the conference and met more twitter friends in real life and

several more new best friends, and listened to the speakers, who were quite impressive, and the poet and the singers, and ate good food, and talked to smart people, and felt so lucky to be there.

I sure wish they'd have an Audience Conference every 1st Thursday of the month. Now that I know my way around, I could be a Manhattan Ambassador for other scared tourists. Manhattan should hire me, I think. I could tweet the whole entire thing, every month. Goodness, what a great idea!

The whole thing was wonderful. It was all just like a Woody Allen movie, but faster, and with much less angst.

Twist Pop Media Goes to Vegas

So. We went to Vegas. We took Francine the Mannequin to the U2 concert, we worked with one of our Twist Pop Media clients, and we goofed off.

(photo by Dave Russell)

We're now working on the second "Twist Pop Media Goes to Vegas" video (here's the link to the "before" video) and we'll post it to You Tube soon.

(Dave took a lot of good pictures!)

It should be a hoot.

Francine had a great trip, she even had to go through the TSA airport scanner (we bought her a plane ticket.)

The security people loved her, and captain of the airplane was thrilled to meet her and be in the video. On the flight home, the flight attendants announced "we have 130 souls and one mannequin on board, sir," at take off.

The funniest thing about the concert for me was wheeling Francine around and watching everyone else's reactions to her.

(another photo by Dave)

We got everything from "huh?" to laughter, to "can you take a picture of us with her?" to, believe it or not, men groping her as she wheeled by. That was a surprise, but actually very hilarious. Turns out she can move pretty quickly if needed, and at 6 feet tall and 70 pounds, she was sturdy enough to hold her own.

Francine brought joy to everyone she encountered, from the baristas at Starbucks to the pool attendants and tourists at the Luxor hotel. It was enlightening for me to see how much people enjoyed our efforts, and how they all wanted to talk to her.

I feel a story brewing inside her, waiting to be written, about how she's happy to listen to the world and share their stories.

I think Francine is a bright light in a weary world. What do you think?

Francine Twist Goes to Vegas

I know, I know, this whole mannequin thing is weird.

Who is Francine? Why is she going to Vegas? What does U2 have to do with it? Will there be video?

So many questions from so many people. I'm working on the answers, and I'll write you the whole story soon, and fire up the Francine Twist blog, too. I promise. In the mean time, tell me what you think Francine means. I bet you have some ideas.

Right now. I'm scurrying around like a crazy person who has to retro-fit a vintage mannequin and figure out how to get her to Vegas for a major rock concert, along with a client of mine who's helping us with the video, and my best friend, Marcia, who just seems to be available for these kinds of adventures, whenever I happen to call, for the past 32 years.

Thanks for joining us. It means the world to me. And to Francine.

Oh, and here's a little video about what I'm going to wear, because I know you care.

My Gay Story: Dear Craig...

Today is National Coming Out Day, an internationally-observed civil awareness day for coming out and discussion about gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) issues. I think it's a good day to talk about civil rights, religion, prejudice, truth and stupidity.

I'll never forget the first person who came out to me publicly in the mid-1980's. I was a young student at a Lutheran University, and most of my peers came from conservative families and congregations.

I handled it badly. Very badly.

I started being Lutheran when I was 13 and a friend of mine asked me to come with her to a youth group meeting. I found a group of nice people who welcomed me into their community and nurtured my interest in music, drama, and philosophical discussion.

By the time I was in high school, our youth leaders (who were only a few years older than us) traveled with us to perform plays and music we'd written at regional and national youth conferences. We had fun and I learned that there are many kinds of Lutherans. Some are quite conservative, some are liberal. I thought I was in the middle.

One of my favorite youth leaders was Craig who joined our church as the Director of Christian Education my senior year of high school. He was married to a wonderful woman and they both came from loving familes of Lutheran pastors and teachers. He was smart and funny, a great counselor when I needed one, and he introduced me to real coffee (shots of espresso with milk, as opposed to the horrible church coffee I tried to drink on Sunday mornings after church.)

When I went off to college in Craig's home town, I became friends with his younger brother and spent time hanging out at their parent's house. I was quite surprised when I heard that Craig and his wife were getting a divorce, but I couldn't get many details when I asked why.

Soon after, Craig called and asked me to join him for coffee, he wanted to talk to me. He told me he was gay and both he and his wife knew it when they got married, but due to their religious views, and because they really did love each other as best friends, they wanted to get married anyway and make it work. It didn't. After several years and no children, they made the painful decision to end the marriage.

Craig knew his family loved him, but this was a completely new world to them. His father was a well-respected conservative Lutheran Pastor in the region, and they were all figuring out how talk about this, at the height of the AIDS epidemic. It had been tough year for everyone and I saw the pain etched deep behind his eyes.

Craig finished talking and waited for me to respond.

I was 18 and very naive. I'd just had my first kiss (and nothing more) a few months before. I was not comfortable talking about sex, or anything related to it, including pre-marital sex or adultery. Being gay was about sex, right? All I could think of was that the Bible lumped the homosexuals in with the bad guys. I had been taught it was a sin. I had never thought about it from a personal perspective.

I was speechless. Craig had been a dear friend to me, and I looked up to him. I wasn't sure how to answer him.

When I finally spoke my response was lame and included phrases like "I respected him and valued him as a person, I'd always be his friend, but I didn't agree with his choices." Because the dogma I'd internalized up to that point taught that he had a choice.

I saw my words hit him like a brick thrown in his face from across the little bistro table. He had expected more from me. He saw more in me than I was willing to let out at the time. He thought I was bigger than the dogma of my church. He thought I knew him well enough to know this wasn't a moral issue, it didn't have anything to do with sex. He thought I'd understand he had no choice. He thought I was a grown up.

He didn't say any of these thoughts out loud. I read them all instantly in the flash of sadness that clouded his eyes. I had to look away then. I was ashamed of myself for not having the insight or vocabulary to figure out how to talk to someone I cared for about being gay. I didn't even know how to try.

I realized I didn't have the guts to let him help me figure out what it all meant, even though he'd helped me deal with all kinds of other tough issues in high school. It was a huge disappointment for both of us. He regained his composure, asked if I could be a good friend to his little brother during this difficult time, gave me a hug and left.

I only saw Craig a couple of times after that. Once at his parents house for a family dinner, once on the bus where he introduced me to his partner. Each time very awkward. We were polite, to each other, but the friendship was clearly broken.

When his brother confided in me about trying to come to grips with Craig's new lifestyle, I sternly told him he should love Craig unconditionally, nothing had really changed in him, he was still the same as he'd always been, he was his brother, and none of the rest mattered. I heard the irony in my words, but saying what I should have said to Craig out loud made me feel better, even though I still couldn't tell him myself.

A few years later, I graduated, and Craig's brother moved away. I lost touch with the family. My mom called me and told me that Craig had AIDS and he was dying.

My mom was a home health nurse who had worked with a few AIDS patients and their families and was often on hospice calls when they were dying at home. She knew the struggles the families faced, often telling everyone their sons had cancer, to avoid the stigma and fear that came with the AIDS ordeal.

She drove up to see Craig and his partner a few times, and sent them letters and photos to cheer them up and let them know she was thinking of him. He asked about me. She told him where I was, what I was up to, weaving all my wild little adventures into funny Julie stories that they could laugh about.

I was in California by then, and had joined a liberal Lutheran church, complete with an openly gay choir director. I hung out with a tightly-knit group of friends, including Christians, Jews, Atheists, Muslims and yes, even a few openly gay people.

The veil of the immaturity I had hid behind at 18 had been lifted swiftly and thrown away by the time I was 22, and living and working in the real world. I had finally grown up a little, as Craig must have known I would.

My mom called again. Craig was really sick now. She had his address, I should send him a card, maybe make a trip up to visit him if I could work it in. I said maybe I would, and I wrote down the address. I composed a few letters in my head, but I knew I wasn't brave enough to send them. I knew he'd forgiven me by then, but I hadn't forgiven myself.

I cried hard the day my mom called and told me Craig died. I cried for myself, for being so stupid.

I guess this is the letter I would have written to Craig, if I'd been able to, 22 years ago.

First and Last Lies

The first time I lied to my mother (at least the first time I can remember) I was about 8 years old. I made a mess in the kitchen right after she cleaned it. She marched all four of us kids in there and asked who did it. I'm the youngest.

I pointed to my brother and said "Mitch did it." His mouth dropped open at the blatant lie. He's five years older than me, and we all usually told the truth at our house. It's an unwritten rule that we still abide by.

"I didn't do it mom, Julie did." He was appalled.

"No, I didn't," I said calmly, "he's lying. He did it."

My mom looked at both of us, slightly confused. I knew she was trying to figure out what to do. I held her eyes in my firm, determined gaze.

"Clean it up, Mitch," she said and walked out of the room, defeated, knowing one of her children was lying but too tired and disappointed to fight with us.

After he cleaned up the mess, I went looking for my mom.

"I really did it mom," I said matter of factly.

"Why did you lie?" she said.

"I just wanted to see if you'd still believe whatever I said. And now that I know you do, I don't need to lie any more."

The last time I lied to my mother was a few months ago.

She asked me if I'd prayed to Jesus to help my husband find a job. I said yes. Of course.

She knew I was lying, but she pretended she didn't.

Now Starring @juliejulie as Mary Tyler Twist Pop

I started a new company called Twist Pop Media. Smart, Sticky, Funny. That's my tag line. The rest is being written. Plus a website is being made. We are flying by the seat of our pants.

"How do you sell yourself when you don't have anything to show?" a friend asked. "I don't know," I said, "I just start talking about what we want to do and how we'll do it and people believe me. And then they give me money And then we do it. And then everyone is happy."

So far, so good.

Some days I just want to be like Mary Tyler Moore and take my mannequin Francine to Vegas with Malibu Stacey to get seaweed wraps and spray tans at all the great five star spas before we head off to see U2 in concert. Because Mary probably had a mannequin in her closet, too. Probably.

So the other day I found this industrial designer guy who will make Francine a polarized magnetic rolling stand (with an on/off switch!) so she'll be mobile. Because mobile innovation is my new catch phrase for the year. And I seem to have a knack for finding smart guys. And gals, too.

We decided we'll make some funny videos of our adventures, and get Francine to listen to all kinds of people tell the world cool stories about their cool companies, and make them laugh in the process, just because we can.

But it's not just about Francine. There will be all kinds of important business going on, because I keep finding a bunch of super smart people to help me. I've got people who like to tell stories, and who know how to be real, and smart, and funny:

• People with MBA's who used to work at Apple and make MC Hammer videos in former careers;
• People who know people, and how to get those people to help us do whatever we want;
• People who can make mobile phone apps, but only if you need one, because maybe you just need your website to look good on everyone's phones;
• People who used to manage hi-tech fabrication plants, and people who routinely file patents for creating fancy software algorithms, and for new ways to manufacture thumb drives, and other smartish things.
• People who teach Lego robotics and Ham radio classes, and how to deal with social media in your office, and can take a bunch of kids to the jungle with a water bottle and a GPS and actually make them find their way home; because it's all related, really;
• People who think about making art on the plexiglas leftover from building their passive solar house, and the best way to photograph sanded acrylic paint on aluminum sheets so the colors work on your screen;
• People who can make stuff out of metal and vegetable-dyed horse hair that can be a nob on your kitchen drawer or a belt buckle, or a part of something much bigger you may not have thought of yet;
• People who know how to open up all kinds of distribution channels in the new sustainable world of "let's make a difference."
• People who can draw.
• People who know how to deal with people, so they don't get all whacked out and cry or cuss (too much) when they're having a bad day;
• People who've worked for Presidents and Kings, and have CNN, Vogue and everyone in between on speed dial, just in case we need them.
• People who can talk to Fortune 500's about brand development strategy, and to start up entrepreneurs who need help refining ideas and finding VC's, or help newbies who just need the direct number of the guy at the IRS who gives you your tax ID number for your new business so you don't have to go through voicemail hell. Which might make you cry, or cuss.

In a nutshell, I found people who can speak and write and think creatively, and come up with amazing new ideas every 2 hours, as if they're just sitting around eating peaches on a warm summer day. They'll create, define and push the words, the pictures and the music to tell your stories, so people will listen, and buy stuff from you.

People, who need people, are the luckiest people...

I got lucky, and I'm happy.

Now I just have to find a lovely powder blue pantsuit like Mary's, and maybe do some more wall sits and stuff with Stacey so I can look like Mary, too.

Although I do love Rhoda's orange dress, big time.